An Encounter in Paris
by Wooden Tulips
Summary: Running into an ex sucks. Running into him while you're on vacation sucks more. M for language


I tapped my foot anxiously, waiting. Angela was flighty at times and normally, that didn't bother me. Today, right now, it did. I hated being left standing outside waiting for someone, especially in a foreign city.

I nervously adjusted my wrap, tugging it over my low cut neckline. It was a little chilly for my taste and that just added to my irritation. The outside was nearly empty now, the opera would be starting and I couldn't go in without Angela. She had the tickets.

A few people shot me curious looks as they headed inside and I flushed slightly. I felt like a dowdy frumpy teenager, not the graceful sophisticated adult I tried so hard to be.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm here!"

I turned then and sighed with relief as Angela came tottering down the sidewalk towards me, an apologetic look on her face. She was dressed to the nines, high heels and shin length dress that flared out just enough, perfect hair and makeup. She looked every bit the sophisticated sleek adult I strived for.

"You just made it," I smiled. As irritated as I was with her, she was my best friend and I couldn't stay that way long. She was hard to be angry at.

"I know, sorry. I got held up."

"What's his name?" I teased as we made our way inside. We handed our tickets over and followed the directions to our seats.

"Gerard."

I grinned and checked my ticket, sidling into my row, apologizing to everyone I had to walk past. Angela had gotten us fabulous seats, seventh row center, but we had to walk past nearly everyone to get to our seats. I smiled at the guy sitting to my right as I pulled off my wrap and sat down, smoothing the skirt of my dress as I did so.

"Where'd you meet him?" I murmured as Angela settled beside me.

"At the hotel bar. He's so nice. French."

"Wow, shocker, a French man in Paris."

"Shut up, Bella. You hung out with your Scot in London, let me have a Frenchie in Paris."

I snickered and settled back, flipping through my program quickly as the lights started to dim.

"Bella?"

I looked up, surprised. I hadn't heard that voice in years and yet, I'd recognize it anywhere. My eyes locked onto a pair of familiar hazel-green eyes that were the only ones of their kind anywhere in the world.

"Mike?"

The lights dimmed the rest of the way, plunging us into darkness. I turned to Angela, stunned. "Mike is here," I muttered under my breath.

Her eyes widened in the dim light from the orchestra pit. "Mike? Like, college Mike?"

I nodded.

"Holy crap."

I nodded again. The music started then and we sat back. She craned her neck to see Mike sitting beside me stiffly.

I couldn't enjoy the first act, knowing he was right there beside me again. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell his scent that I hadn't smelled in forever and that I hadn't thought I'd smell ever again. My hands twisted my program up in my lap nervously until finally, shockingly, he reached over and rested a large warm hand on mine, calming me some. I hated myself a little that he still had the ability to calm me. He leaned over, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"Can we talk at the intermission?"

I nodded dumbly. He also still had the ability to turn me into a nervous teenage girl. He squeezed my hand again and then withdrew his, settling back in his seat quietly. There was no way I was going to hear the rest of the first act. I simply sat and stared at the conductor, willing the act to end quickly so I could talk to Mike.

It finally ended and Angela turned to me, though I knew she was looking at Mike. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. Wanna come with?"

I shook my head and stood up. "I think I'll get something to drink while we wait."

She nodded. "Get me a white wine?"

"Of course."

We carefully made our way to the lobby, parting ways while she went to the bathroom and I headed towards the small bar. I could sense Mike's presence behind me, dwarfing me with the 14 inches he had on me. I waited in line patiently as he stepped up behind me, his hand resting comfortably in the small of my back.

"Bella, it's good to see you," he said finally.

I turned and nodded, smiling nervously. "You too. You look good. Is Jessica here?"

"No, no, she's back home."

I nodded and twisted my program nervously again. It was pretty well destroyed at this point. There was a long awkward pause until I finally took a deep breath and straightened up. I'd always told myself if given the opportunity, I'd ask this question.

"Why her and not me?"

Mike blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Why did you pick her and not me?" I cleared my throat against the catch in my voice. "You told me you loved me and then…you picked her."

He sighed and looked away for a long moment. "I made a lot of stupid choices in the past and that's one I'm not proud of, Bella."

"That's not an answer."

"I don't really have one for you."

"It was because of the sex, wasn't it?"

A couple of people around us turned, surprised. I flushed but stood my ground.

"It was because I wouldn't have sex with you."

He flushed slightly this time. "Bella, now is not really the place..."

"Fuck you, Mike," I hissed. "I was more than willing to discuss this in your time frame years ago. You're discussing it with me now."

His eyes flashed angrily. I'd recognize that look anywhere. "Fine." His long fingers wrapped around my upper arm and pulled me out of the line and towards a secluded area of the lobby. I knew I was likely causing a scene and there was nothing Mike hated more than a scene, but I didn't care. Years of anxiety and self-doubt and wondering why were coming to a head and I felt like I was going to explode any minute.

He pushed me against the wall, hiding me from prying eyes and looked down at me, angrily and also a little nervous.

"You want the truth? Fine. Yes. It was sex. I was a horny college guy whose girlfriend wouldn't put out. I found a girl who would and it ended up being the biggest mistake of my life. Happy?"

I blinked. "Mistake? You married her, Mike."

"I know." He blew out his breath and turned, looking away from me. "She told me she was pregnant. I wanted to do the right thing so I married her."

"So what happened to the baby?" I asked numbly. I knew for a fact they didn't have kids. So sue me, I was a facebook stalker.

"There was no baby, Bella, just her being a manipulative bitch."

"Why would she claim something like that?"

"She knew I was getting ready to leave her and come back to you, if I could convince you to take me. Sex was not all it was touted to be, from what I discovered with her."

I swallowed hard. I knew it. I'd had a feeling that he'd been about to come back to me when all of a sudden, they were engaged and married almost immediately. All of my friends had speculated that there was a baby but when there was no baby bump or baby, we just assumed that he'd gotten swept up in love or something.

"You know," I said softly "if you'd asked me to have sex with you instead of just trying to force my hand, I probably would have. I loved you, Mike. I really did."

He looked pained. "I'm sorry, for all of it. I really am." He studied me again, his eyes doing the familiar dance between my eyes and my mouth. I licked my lips automatically as his head lowered towards mine. He hesitated a split second before kissed me.

I'd dreamed about kissing him again so many times. All the bad nights, all the lonely moments, all the daydreams...it didn't live up to them. Kissing him again was...wrong. Something was off.

I pushed him back and rested my fingertips on my lips. "Mike, no. We can't. You're married. We're both happy in our lives, right?"

"I'm not. Bella, I want you back. I have for years and I still do. I love you."

I groaned and shook my head. "You don't know how badly I wanted to hear that for so long."

"And now?" he looked so hopeful.

I sighed and looked at him sadly. "Now it's too late. I don't love you anymore. I did for so long but not anymore." It was insane that I was saying this. Hadn't I done so many things over the past few years because I thought I still loved him and maybe those things would bring him back to me? And now, I was realizing I didn't love him and what was more, I didn't want him. I was pretty content with my life if I was going to be totally honest.

He stared at me for a long moment then shook his head. "You're such a bitch, you know that? You send out these signals that you want me and then you push me away. It's no wonder you're still single. No sane man would put up with that if he didn't have to. I'm offering to, in spite of the way you managed to fuck my life up."

I sucked in my breath, stunned. "Fuck you," I finally managed. "_You_ are the one who fucked up your life, not me. _You_ are the one who decided sex was more important than being with someone who loved you whole heartedly. _You_ were the one who fell for the oldest trick in the goddamn book, not me." My voice had been steadily raising and by now, I was near screeching. He blinked and stepped back. "I am not the reason you're married to a miserable manipulative shrew of a woman, you and your fucking dick are. So don't you _dare_ blame me, you miserable piece of shit."

I pushed past him and over towards the bar. The lights were flashing for the next act but I was too upset. I walked up to the bartender. "I need two of the biggest white wines you've ever poured. Seriously, just give me the bottle."

He handed it over without a word, shooting a dirty look at Mike. "Need me to call someone ma'am?"

I shook my head and took an unladylike swig out of the bottle. "No, I'll be fine. I'm just upset right now."

"Stay as long as you like."

"Thanks." I took another swig and then took a deep breath. I didn't normally drink wine because it affected me so quickly. I could already feel the false warmth it spread through my veins, making my fingertips tingle.

"Bella?"

I turned and saw Angela looking at me with concern. "Yes."

"You look like hell."

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically, turning back to my bottle. I took another pull on it, finishing it off. I set it down harder than I intended and it wobbled a bit before the bartender grabbed it. "Sorry, I drank your glass."

"Don't worry about it. You want to get out of here?"

"Yes, but you stay. You've been looking forward to this for ages. I'll make my way back to the hotel on my own."

"I don't mind."

I shook my head and waved my hand. "I'm fine. I just want to walk and be on my own for a bit. I'm shit company right now." Her eyes widened and I nodded. "Exactly." I rarely swore, so the fact that I'd said fuck and shit in the last five minutes was saying something.

"Be careful, ok? Don't go far. Walk around the park across the street and meet me back here in an hour and we'll go."

"I'll be fine," I reiterated. "Just go watch your opera and kick Mike for me if you see him."

She nodded and, with another hesitant glance at me, she headed back in. I turned to the bartender. "Is the park safe at night?"

"Pretty much."

"Ok. Tell her I went there then. Call me when the show's over?"

He looked like he was about to say no before he nodded and pushed a cocktail napkin and pen towards me. I hastily scrawled my cell phone number on it and then tottered out of the opera house.

The night air was crisp and cool and I sucked it in greedily. I felt like I'd been breathing stuffy stale recycled air forever, even though it'd been only a couple of hours. After I'd regained some sobriety, I set off down the street, my heels clicking loudly on the pavement.

As it turned out, I ended up in the park. I walked for a while, enjoying the solitude and the quiet before finally giving in to the pain in my feet and dropping onto a handy bench. I slumped forward, hot tears prickling at my eyes as everything came crashing down on me. Maybe Mike was right. Maybe I was a miserable mess of a person that no one wanted anything to do with. After all, no one seemed to want anything to do with me other than a quckie. I could get guys to want me, but no one wanted to be with me beyond a bedroom moment. I was content, sure, but I was also horribly lonely and vaguely miserable. My life was a paradox.

"You alright?"

I jumped, startled out of what had apparently been a bit of a doze by the sound of a concerned male voice. One that was decidedly American. I sat up and pushed my hair out of my face, looking up blearily into a concerned pale face with dark eyes.

"Miss?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright? Can I call someone for you?"

"I'm fine," I waved my hand dismissively. "I'm just a little drunk. Ok maybe a lotta drunk."

He looked like he wasn't sure if I was being serious or if he should really call someone. I cleared my throat and shook myself.

"I'm fine. I just…had a run in with someone at the opera and then drank a bit too much wine and decided a walk sounded fantastic and here I am."

He nodded and turned, looking out over the empty park, his fingers twitching. My eyes locked onto them, mesmerized. They were beautiful fingers, long and thin. A piano player's fingers. I wanted to touch them. I shook myself again as I realized I was reaching for them.

"Take a seat, stranger."

He looked back at me and then nodded. "Alright."

He settled beside me on the bench and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered me one before taking one for himself.

"Those cause cancer you know," I said wisely. I was always wise when drunk. It was amazing.

"So I hear."

We sat in silence as he smoked, the only sound the regular sucking of the cancer stick and subsequent exhalation of the smoke.

"So, do you want to talk about what happened to a completely unbiased person?"

I grinned and sat back, stretching my feet out in front of me. "Sure, why not. My ex showed up at the opera and apparently I was right about why he dumped me ten years ago. We got into a screaming match in the lobby and he's a tool."

"Yeah, that helps."

I laughed softly. He flicked his cigarette butt onto the ground and I stared at the glowing ember a moment before standing and carefully grinding it out with my heel. I then slipped off my heels and paced around in the grass and told him my miserable story.

I told him about meeting Mike as a lowly freshman and being swept away by the gorgeous upperclassman that took interest in me. I told him about how I told Mike I loved him after six months together and how he didn't respond in kind for over a month, driving my paranoia that maybe I wasn't worth anything to him. I told him about the idea of saving myself sexually until marriage and how, at least at first, Mike had been fine with that. Then I told him about finding him and my former best friend and roommate having sex on our living room couch. I told him about getting the wedding invitation a few months later, even after I thought he was giving me signals that he was interested in getting back together. I skipped over the rest of my life between then and now and told him about tonight and meeting Mike and the familiar feelings rushing back and the confrontation and the kiss and resulting discovery that this man was not what I wanted anymore.

"And then…now."

He nodded. He hadn't said a single word during my entire rant, hadn't asked a single question or offered a single bit of insight into Mike's behavior or Jessica's. He'd simply smoked a few cigarettes and nodded a few times. I settled beside him and reached over, wordlessly taking the cigarette from him and taking a deep drag. I held the smoke in my lungs for a long moment before letting it out with a soft groan of appreciation.

"It's been ages since I smoked."

He chuckled softly. "You seem to need it."

I nodded and then turned to look at him. "So? Opinions?"

"He's a tool."

I laughed and passed the cigarette back. "Thanks."

"Obviously, there's more to you than you're letting on. I'm not the most aware of men and even I can tell that. You seem like a nice enough girl."

"Thank you. I hope I am."

He smiled and took the last drag of the butt before stomping it out carefully. "Would you like to go get dinner?"

I studied him for a moment. "I would, yeah."

He stood up and offered me his hand. "Come on, I know a nice little café near here."

I walked with him, my shoes hanging from one hand, the other clasped firmly in his. He took me to a quiet secluded little café where we sat and drank wine and ate bread and cheese and whatever else they put in front of us. Everything was wonderful and I couldn't get enough of it. All thoughts of Mike left my mind as I sat and enjoyed my evening.

My cell phone rang half way through, the bartender telling me the opera was over. I thanked him and then called Angela to let her know where I was and that I'd be back later for our customary evening call home.

I flipped my phone shut and smiled at the guy sitting across from me. I'd already decided if he asked, I'd go back to his hotel room with him. I didn't do crazy one night stands ever, but I figured he'd kind of earned it by listening to my ranting and buying me dinner. Plus, the wine was making me feel really good.

We did end up back at his hotel. I didn't notice much about it except that it had a bed. A very comfortable bed.

Hours later, I carefully extracted myself from his iron grip and pulled my gorgeous opera dress back on. It was now wrinkled almost beyond repair. I ducked into the bathroom and scrubbed the smudged makeup off my face and attempted to repair my hair. It was unfixable so I simply took out the pins and let it tumble around my shoulders. I definitely had that "just fucked" look. It was nice to have that look again. It'd been a while.

I stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack as I scanned the room for my missing panties but they were nowhere to be seen. I sighed and checked the clock. I didn't have time to look for them. He could just have them as a souvenir.

I slipped my heels back on once I was out of his room and hurried out of the hotel and to my own hotel room. It was further than I thought from his hotel to my own and I just barely made it before three, our customary calling time.

Angela shot me a look, her eyebrows raised, as I sidled into the room. "Have fun?"

I smiled. "Yup."

She rolled her eyes and motioned me over to her bed. I shoved her over and sat down, looking at the laptop screen. She pulled up Skype and called my dad first. A few moments later, his face filled the screen.

"Hey baby girl."

"Hey daddy," I smiled at him. "How's everything?"

"Good. How's the trip?"

"Great. We went to the opera tonight."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes." I wasn't going to tell him about Mike and no way was I going to tell him about the guy from the park. A guy, I just realized, whose name I didn't know.

He nodded. "Good. Someone here wants to say goodnight."

I beamed as my daughter's face filled the screen. "Mama!" she exclaimed.

"Hey Monkey," I laughed, reaching forward and touching the screen. "Mommy misses you."

"I miss Mama," she frowned, reaching back. My heart broke a little. I hadn't been apart from her for this long ever and I missed her so much.

"I know, Monkey, but Mama's going to be home soon and I've got presents for you."

"Peasants?"

"Yes. Lots of presents. I might have to ship them home."

She beamed at me then started talking quickly, telling me about her kitty and Ganpa and the things the other kids had done at school. I listened raptly, drinking in every single word.

This little girl, this perfect little thing, was a bizarre result of Mike. I guess I'd have to thank him for that. After I'd castrated him for speaking to me the way he had.

We signed off and while Angela called her boys back home, I hopped in the shower and cleaned up. A one night stand while in a foreign country was ok, but no way was I taking that stink back to my baby girl. All she was getting from this trip was the suitcase full of toys and t-shirts and trinkets I'd bought her. All I was taking home for me were memories. That was it. I'd have to make sure Angela knew that.


End file.
